


Public Indecency

by BrunetteAuthorette99



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Big Brother Gabriel, Boys Kissing, Castiel & Anna Milton are Siblings, Castiel & Gabriel Are Brothers, Castiel & Meg Masters Friendship, Dean Flirts, Doctor Sexy M.D., Fluff, Gabriel Being Gabriel, Gen, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Impala Makeouts, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Police Uniforms, Socially Awkward Castiel, Spin the Bottle, Stargazing, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-21 00:39:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2448917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrunetteAuthorette99/pseuds/BrunetteAuthorette99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school AU. Castiel is set against going to the Halloween costume party hosted by Anna and Gabriel, both of whom are equally determined to bring together their younger brother and his not-so-secret crush: a certain green-eyed Winchester. But no one anticipates Dean actually showing up - let alone in a sexy cop costume - and Castiel certainly doesn't expect having the greatest night of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Public Indecency

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this [list of Halloween AUs](http://lethophxbia.tumblr.com/post/98190262712/halloween-aus-deep-conversations-and-wow-i-wonder).

“ _No_ ,” Castiel repeated for what felt like the hundredth time in ten minutes. “I’m not going. Period.”

Gabriel heaved a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes upward. “Come _on,_ baby bro. You’re killing me, here. _Killing_ me!”

“You’re not dying,” the other said flatly.

“ _Figuratively_ dying, smartass. But keep up that attitude and it might become literal any time now.” Glancing over, Gabriel swatted Castiel’s hand away from the volume control on the stereo, thwarting his younger brother’s plans to turn up the radio and effectively end the conversation. “I just don’t get it. You _love_ Halloween. You’ve _always_ loved Halloween!”

“That doesn’t mean I like Halloween _parties_.” Propping his elbow on the door handle, Castiel stared out the window and watched the autumn leaves pass by in a blur of orange and gold. “And for the record, I have no preference when it comes to holidays. Halloween is _your_ favorite holiday.”

“April Fool’s Day wins out, but I _do_ love Halloween,” Gabriel admitted with a grin. “I mean, sugar comas, late-night shenanigans, sexy costumes – what’s _not_ to love?”

Castiel shrugged wordlessly. He could have thought of a lot of unpleasant things about Halloween – horror movies, backfiring pranks, immature grade-schoolers demanding candy – but it was a largely futile exercise to debate against Gabriel.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try, though.

Gabriel sighed again; privately, his younger brother wondered if he was going for a record. “I’m serious, baby bro. Come to the party. Live a little. It won’t kill you to spend _one night_ away from your textbooks. Plus, it’s at our house, so you don’t have to drive anywhere and you can leave when you want.”

“I think you and I have different definitions of ‘leave,’ Gabe,” Castiel said wryly. “Just because I’m upstairs doesn’t mean I can’t hear what’s going on downstairs.”

“Which is _exactly_ why you should come!” Gabriel exclaimed. “It’s not like you’ll get any studying done or anything, so you might as well dress up, drink, and dance the night away. Besides,” he added in a slightly more conciliatory tone, “it’s not going to be a _huge_ party.”

“And when you say ‘huge,’ you mean _how_ many people?” Castiel asked warily.

“It’s honestly not a lot,” Anna chimed in from the back seat. “Less than fifty. It’s small.”

Her brother craned his head around, his face defeated. “You’re _helping_ him?”

“Yes, because I agree with him.” His sister smiled sympathetically, patting him on the back. “Don’t worry, Castiel. I didn’t invite anyone _too_ awful: only friends.”

“And people who won’t be buzzkills or batshit psycho,” Gabriel interjected. “Which rules out the King of the World and the Bag of Dicks – I mean, _Michael and Lucifer_ ,” he corrected with an eye roll after seeing Anna’s pointed look. “Besides, I’m sure they’re much too busy trying to kill each other in their frat house to come to our party.”

“Did you even extend an invitation?” Anna asked, exasperated.

“Nope. Same goes for our beloved cousins. _What?_ ” he demanded as his sister pursed her lips. “Raphael and Uriel might live in this town, but those snooty-ass choir boys sure as hell don’t want anything to do with us. And as much as I like Balthazar, I _know_ he’s not coming back from France for this.”

Anna sighed, opening up her smartphone. “Why did you put me in charge of the guest list if you’re going to un-invite half the people on it?”

“Because _I’m_ too busy getting the booze and Doritos.” Stepping on the gas, Gabriel sped through a yellow light in the instant before it turned red, much to the chagrin of the other drivers at the intersection. “Anyone RSVP last-minute?”

Tucking a strand of long red hair behind her ear, Anna scrolled down the screen. “Did I already tell you that Charlie can make it? Kevin, too.”

“Great. More nerds.” Gabriel grinned at Castiel, nudging him with his elbow. “See? You won’t be _completely_ alone, baby bro.”

Castiel crossed his arms and studiously ignored him.

“Oh, and...” Anna’s voice trailed off, and her eyes flitted up. “I invited the Winchesters.”

The smile was instantly wiped off of Gabriel’s face, replaced by a look of pure irritation. “The _Winchesters_?” he repeated. “ _Please_ tell me you’re joking.”

“Gabriel –” Anna started patiently.

“They’re assholes!” her brother protested, cutting her off. “ _And_ they’re total party poopers. Actually, that’s not true; Dean’s _way_ more fun than Sam, but –”

Anna frowned. “I thought you liked them.”

Gabriel smirked. “‘Course I do. I was just messing with you, sis. But you know who else likes the Winchesters?” he continued, raising the volume of his voice. “Castiel does.”

The sound of his name jerking him out of his thoughts, Castiel looked over. “What do I like?” he asked, confused.

“Not a _what_ , baby bro – a _who_.” His older brother’s grin was devilish. “The Winchesters. You’re friends with them, right?”

“Ye-es,” Castiel answered cautiously. “Sam and I are very good friends. We’re in several classes together –”

“Maybe I should have been a bit more specific,” Gabriel interrupted, his smile growing wider. “ _Dean_ Winchester. You’re friends with him, right?”

“Dean?” The name was barely out of his mouth before Castiel felt a blush heating his cheeks, remembering forest-green eyes and the flash of teeth in a laugh. “Not – not exactly,” he said, trying to cover. “I mean, he’s Sam’s brother, but –”

Gabriel’s grin was positively gleeful. “Aw, I think our baby bro has a _crush_ ,” he cooed.

“No, I –” Castiel’s face felt like it was on fire. “I don’t know him that well,” he managed. “He’s... nice, though.”

His older brother lifted an eyebrow. “ _‘Nice’_? Dean Winchester is not a ‘nice’ guy. He is bad to the bone and absolutely _smoking_ , besides. Trust me on that.”

“Well, he – he’s nice to me,” the other muttered, embarrassed. One covert glance at the rear-view mirror confirmed that his face was the approximate color of a tomato. _How can one person do this to me? Make me feel like this? It’s – it’s –_

“Oh, _is_ he?” Gabriel said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “How nice are we talking, here? ‘Carry your books to class’ nice or ‘blowjob before class’ nice?”

“ _Gabriel_ ,” Anna said reproachfully as hot, molten mortification simmered anew under Castiel’s skin. “Be pleasant.”

“I _am_ being pleasant!” Gabriel protested, a mock-offended look on his face. “I’m an absolute ray of sunshine! Right, baby bro?” He glanced meaningfully towards Castiel.

“Not right now, you’re not.” Castiel leaned one cheek against the slightly smudged window, exhaling in relief as the cool glass negated his burning blush.

Gabriel groaned. “Look, it is my civic duty to do _something_ about that stick up your ass, and that ‘something’ is my Halloween party. And if said stick ends up being replaced with Dean Winchester’s –”

“ _Gabriel!_ ” Anna gasped. 

“What? I’m trying to be encouraging!”

Doing his best to ignore both his brother’s lewd comments and the blood rushing unceasingly into his face, Castiel scrabbled in his backpack for his beat-up earbuds and quickly slipped them into his ears. Plugging them into his iPhone, he pulled up his music library, hit “Shuffle,” and closed his eyes, attempting to block out the world.

The first song hadn’t been playing for more than five seconds when Gabriel plucked one of his earbuds out of his ear. “You _do_ know that I mean well, right? When was the last time you even _dated_?”

“None of your business.” Castiel snatched his earbud back from his brother. 

Gabriel smirked. “I’ll take that to mean ‘not since the dawn of time’ – which I just don’t get, by the way. I mean, you don’t have _my_ incredibly good looks, but you have a certain... ‘lost puppy’ kind of charm.” He ruffled Castiel’s hair fondly. “Girls should be all over that. Certain kinds of guys, too.” 

His younger brother just put his left earbud back in without another glance towards the driver’s seat.  _Gabriel, you toe a fine line between “brotherly” and “over-interested,” and you crossed it long ago._

Gabriel promptly yanked out the earbud again. “What are listening to, anyway?” He peered over at the iPhone’s screen, and his brows rose. “AC/DC? That’s not your kind of music.”

“Well, I’m listening to it, aren’t I?” Castiel pulled his phone away from his brother. _If Gabriel’s going to be obstinate, it may be time to fight fire with fire._

“Instead of your beloved dead composers? Chopin? Debussy?” Slowly, Gabriel’s smirk re-emerged. “You’re listening to _Dean’s_ music, aren’t you?”

Castiel’s blush had finally cooled, but at his brother’s words, his face went up in flames once again and his heart thudded in time with the notes of the guitar.

“Oh, that’s adorable,” Gabriel chuckled. “Sad, but adorable.”

“Gabriel, _enough_ ,” Anna sighed. “You’re being immature.”

“I’m _always_ immature, sis,” the other pointed out.

“More so than usual.” Anna was using what Castiel always thought of as her “mom voice”: calm, patient, and more than a little patronizing. “If you want Castiel to attend our Halloween party, it would help if you stopped teasing him and started helping him.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do _that_?” Gabriel squawked.

Ignoring her brother’s indignation, Anna leaned forward in her seat. “Castiel, the Winchesters – Sam _and_ Dean – _have_ told me they are coming to the party. Does that change your mind at all about going or not?”

Castiel chewed on his lip. “I don’t know,” he muttered, embarrassed. “Just – just let me think about it.”

“That’s your problem, baby bro!” Gabriel burst out, unable to stay silent. “You think too much! You need to just _do_! Make a decision, get caught up in the heat of the moment, you know? That’s what makes life _fun_!”

“Let me think about it,” Castiel repeated. “ _Please_.”

His brother groaned loudly, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. “ _Fine._ ” He turned his attention back to driving, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “But you should come.”

Putting his earbuds back in, Castiel changed the song and stared out the window as the melancholy strains of a cello filled his hearing and drowned out Gabriel’s inane chatter.

* * *

“Castiel? Earth to Castiel?”

Hearing his name, Castiel’s head instantly shot up; his neck cracked and he winced. “Sorry?” he asked, rubbing his neck. “Uh... could you repeat that?”

Smiling, Sam shook his head in disbelief. “I asked about your brother’s Halloween party. The one tonight?”

“Oh. Yeah. That.” Scooping up the textbooks that he wasn’t able to fit into his backpack, Castiel turned towards the classroom door, joining the throng of chattering students streaming out into the hallway.

Despite his head start, Sam easily kept pace with him. “You’re going, right? I mean, it’s at your house, so you’ll be there anyway –”

“I don’t know.” Castiel hoisted his backpack up a little further on his shoulder, nearly dropping his textbooks and almost hitting a passing freshman in the process. “Sorry,” he apologized, but the freshman had already vanished.

Sam frowned. “You won’t be at the party or you won’t be at home?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel repeated stubbornly. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”

That tell-tale wrinkle appeared in Sam’s forehead, showcasing his confusion. “So... let me get this straight,” he finally said. “Your brother’s Halloween party is tonight, and you haven’t decided whether you’re going or not.”

“Yes.” Weaving his way to his locker, Castiel shifted his textbooks to the crook of one arm and started fiddling with the combination lock.

“Why _wouldn’t_ you go?” Sam asked, wondering out loud. “I know parties aren’t your thing, but –”

“Why are you asking?”

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s Dean.”

Castiel stopped trying to open his locker at the sound of the name. “Oh?” he managed, trying to keep calm. “What about your brother? Anna said the two of you were coming.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “ _I_ told her that. Dean’s not feeling particularly charitable towards _your_ brother at the moment, though, so I’m not sure if he’ll go or not.”

“When are they _ever_ on good terms?” Castiel said wryly. While Gabriel always claimed that he and Dean were friends, their conduct around each other was never _completely_ friendly.

“Good point.” Turning to the locker next to his friend’s, Sam started to twirl the dial of his combination lock. “In any case, I think Dean’s pretty set against going.”

Castiel chewed on his lip. “And... why would whether I come or not make a difference?” he asked tentatively, fearing the worst.

“Well...” Sam began slowly, laughing a little; it was a nervous, uncomfortable sound, and it gave Castiel pause to hear it. “This might sound weird, but I honestly think that –”

“Sammy!”

Both of their heads swiveled to see Dean emerging from the mob in the hall, lazily strolling towards them with his leather jacket shrugged onto his broad shoulders and his car keys jangling from one hand. If not for the lone textbook tucked under one arm, a casual observer would never have guessed him to be a high school student.

“What took you so long?” Sam asked, yanking his locker open.

“Doesn’t matter. Besides, it’s Friday; there’s no need to rush.” Dean’s gaze went from his brother to Castiel, and he smiled a little. “Hey, Cas. How’re things?”

 _Cas._ Dean’s nickname for him never failed to make his heart skip a beat. It might have been merely a shortening of his name, but Dean had never called him anything else. It was... special. Intimate, almost. And with that roguish smirk and the twinkle in those vividly green eyes as he said it...

“Um,” Castiel said as articulately as he could, trying to dismiss his thoughts. “Not – not much.” Ducking his head, he fumbled with his combination lock. This time, his textbooks _did_ slide out of his grip, and he tensed up, anticipating the _smack_ of heavy hardcover books hitting tile.

“Easy there, Cas. I’ve got them.” Dean easily caught Castiel’s plummeting textbooks, hefting them in his arms. “Damn, these weigh a ton.”

“You can out-bench-press the football team, but have trouble handling a few tiny textbooks?” Sam remarked snidely, plopping his backpack down on the floor and unzipping it.

Dean snorted. “Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam retorted, pulling out a binder and a few notebooks and stashing them in his locker.

Dean chuckled, leaning casually up against the locker next to Castiel’s. “So, Cas,” he said, “Gabe’s having his Halloween party tonight, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Finally opening his locker, Castiel turned to Dean and realized that his friend’s brother was very, _very_ close to him. Close enough that he could clearly smell whatever cologne Dean was wearing, though judging by the tiny spots of grease just under his T-shirt collar, Castiel thought that a bacon cheeseburger would also explain the appealing scent.

“Cas?” Dean prompted. “You want your books back?”

Too late, Castiel realized he had been staring at Dean – or rather, Dean’s chest – and he felt a blush start to creep into his cheeks. “My – my books? Yeah, sure,” he stammered, taking his textbooks from Dean’s hands and stacking them on the top shelf of his locker as fast as he could, as if their paper-bag book covers were blazing hot.

“So...” Dean said slowly, dragging out the word. “About the party...”

Castiel instantly turned back around. “Yes?” he said, hoping he didn’t sound _too_ eager. “What – what about it?”

“You going to be there?”

Castiel flushed, taken aback by the sudden question. “Um – I – are you?” he asked quickly. “Going to be there, I mean,” he clarified. “At Gabriel’s party.”

Dean shrugged, lazily twirling his car keys around his finger. “Depends.”

Castiel frowned. “Depends... on _what_?” he questioned warily.

Dean smiled, one corner of his mouth pulling up in a rakish grin that flashed his teeth. “Answer my question first.”

“Oh, um...” The other swallowed nervously. _What do I do? What do I do? Come on, Castiel,_ think. _You have to say_ something.

_Should I tell him “no”? Or... should I just say –?_

“Yes.” He blurted it out before he could reconsider. “I – I’m going.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up.

Dean caught his spiraling car keys in one smooth motion. “Then I guess I’ll see you there.” He straightened up. “Need a lift?”

“What?” Castiel asked, blinking in surprise; with his mind so wrapped around Dean’s response, he hadn’t heard the next question.

“Do you need a lift? If you do, I can give you a ride.” It could have been his imagination, but it seemed to him that Dean’s smile had grown just a little bit cockier.

Castiel was fairly sure his face was growing exponentially more red with each passing second. _Repeat after me: not everyone is Gabriel. Not everything is innuendo. Okay, this sounded a_ lot _like innuendo..._

“Thanks, but I – my sister or someone will probably – well... pick me up.” Castiel cleared his throat, wincing a little as he became aware of how dry it was. “Thanks again, though.”

“No problem, Cas.” Dean clapped him on the shoulder before addressing his brother. “C’mon, Sammy. Let’s get home.”

Sam nodded, his expression thoughtful, as if his suspicions had been confirmed. Closing his locker and hauling his partially unzipped backpack up on one shoulder, he followed Dean as his older brother started down the emptying hallway.

Castiel stared after them for what felt like an eternity, trying to process what had just happened. _I’m going to my brother’s Halloween party? And Dean is coming to the party?_

 _And – and he might be coming because I’ll be there?_ Inexplicably, the thought gave him a warm, pleasant feeling. _That’s – I –_

A buzzing sound emanating from deep within his backpack brought him back to the present. Dropping his backpack to the floor before his open locker, Castiel unzipped one of the front pockets and dug out his furiously vibrating iPhone. He sighed when he saw who was calling, but he dutifully answered anyway.

“Where the hell are you, baby bro?” Gabriel demanded. “Anna and I have been waiting in the back lot for _five minutes_. Five. Minutes.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel apologized, grabbing his coat out of his locker with his free hand. “I was – I was a little late getting out of class, and then I was talking –”

“– to the _Winchesters_?” Gabriel’s voice was sickly-sweet. “And don’t you dare deny it. Dean and Sammy are walking to their precious douchemobile as I speak.”

Castiel sighed. “Yes,” he said reluctantly, bracing himself for the onslaught. “I was.”

His instincts paid off, and Castiel jerked the phone away from his ear as his brother loudly crowed in triumph. “Called it! _So_ ,” Gabriel continued, sounding unbearably smug, “what gives, baby bro? Changed your mind now that your green-eyed heartthrob is coming?”

Castiel took a deep breath. “Yes, actually.”

The other end of the line was dead silent for a moment. Then: “Wow. Just... _wow._ ” Gabriel almost sounded stunned. “Where did _that_ come from?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel confessed, double-checking the contents of his backpack to ensure he had everything he needed for this weekend. Chemistry textbook and his corresponding notebook. US History binder. _Hamlet._ Pencil case. Scientific calculator. “It just... slipped out.”

“Well, good for you, baby bro. It’s about time you got some –” Gabriel’s sentence was cut off by the muffled sounds of a struggle, accompanied by some cursing on his part. “Sis, give my phone back!” Castiel heard him yell faintly.

Presumably, Anna ignored him. “Glad to hear you’ll be coming.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Do you have a costume?”

“A – a costume?” Castiel repeated numbly, dread overtaking him.

“It’s a costume party,” Anna explained patiently. “You’ll need one.”

“But I don’t know –” he protested.

Anna sighed, and Castiel could practically hear her shaking her head. “Then we’ll go to the store and buy you one.”

* * *

Castiel grimaced. “I don’t like this.”

“What is it _now?_ ” Gabriel groaned. “I don’t see anything wrong with this one.”

“Besides the fact that I’d be attending the party half-naked?” Castiel said pointedly, holding up the plastic bag. From what he could extrapolate from the pieces visible inside the bag and the picture on the label, the gladiator costume consisted of a shoulder guard, a leather skirt, sandals, and not much else.

“Baby bro, it is a time-honored tradition to wear skimpy costumes on Halloween,” Gabriel stated flatly. “Besides, you want to catch Dean’s attention, right?”

“Not like _that_.” Castiel hurriedly hooked the plastic bag up on the rack behind him; he felt dirty just by _touching_ it.

“You got a better idea?” Gabriel asked pointedly, waving a hand at the aisles of impractical-looking Halloween costumes surrounding them. “Because if you already have a plan to woo Dean Winchester –”

“I don’t. But if I did, it wouldn’t involve dressing up like a stripper,” Castiel shot back.

“Okay, I’ll admit that you going as a Chippendale dancer was not my brightest idea,” Gabriel confessed. “But there was nothing wrong with the cowboy costume!”

“‘Nothing wrong’? It didn’t have a shirt! And the pants were –” Castiel could feel his face coloring “– not pants!” he finished lamely.

“I believe the term is ‘assless chaps,’ baby bro,” Gabriel drawled. “They’re actually not as uncomfortable as they appear, provided you have something to cup your goodies in.”

Castiel cringed. “I did _not_ need to hear that.”

“Boys,” Anna chided, stepping between them, “let’s keep this civil, all right? Castiel,” she continued, turning to him, “what did _you_ have in mind for your costume?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel said, feeling helpless. “Just... something _dignified_ , I guess...”

“Well, you can’t rent a tux and call it a night,” Gabriel dismissed. “I’m already going as James Bond. No masks, either,” he added. “You want Dean to see your pretty face.”

Anna tapped her chin, thinking. “Vampire?” she suggested, pulling a long, velvet-lined cape off a nearby coat rack for inspection. “If you go old-school Bela Lugosi –”

Gabriel shook his head. “Old-school Bela Lugosi has been done to death – pun intended.”

“I actually agree,” Castiel said. “I’m not really fond of vampires.” _Besides, I don’t think Dean likes vampires either. Or any kind of monster._

Anna dutifully hung the cape back up, scanning the shelves of merchandise for more ideas. “How about a gangster? Or an angel?” She held up a pinstripe fedora in one hand and a pair of fluffy white wings in the other.

Castiel paused, considering it. “Maybe...” he said hesitantly.

“Gangster,” Gabriel said instantly. “Angels are overrated.”

Anna sighed, letting her arms drop to the side. “Let Castiel decide for himself, Gabriel.”

“I was just offering my opinion!”

Drifting further down the aisle and tuning out his siblings’ argument, Castiel let his eyes trail over the costumes on display. As far as he could tell, it was mostly female costumes, but he could pick out a few intended for men, ranging from the standard fare – pirate, firefighter, any number of superheroes – to the outlandish and distasteful. Unfortunately, the latter category seemed to outnumber the former, as pimp hats, barely-there kilts, porn-star mustaches, and muscle shirts littered the shelves.

Castiel chewed his lip, trying not to panic. _This was a bad idea. A very,_ very _bad idea._

“I’ve got it!”

Turning around, Castiel saw Gabriel holding up yet another plastic bag with a triumphant grin on his face. “What is it this time?” he asked, exasperated.

“Your perfect Halloween costume. Tasteful, elegant – and no skin required.” Gabriel wiggled the bag teasingly. “Don’t you even want to know what it is?”

Curious despite himself, Castiel took the bag from him and peered at the label. “‘Doctor Sexy, M.D.’?” he read out loud, incredulous. “Are you serious?”

“Baby bro, I have never been more serious in my life,” Gabriel declared. “Besides, I have it on good authority that Dean’s guilty pleasure is that ridiculous show.”

“You love that ‘ridiculous show,’ too,” Anna reminded him.

Gabriel shrugged. “Doesn’t make it any less ridiculous.”

“On _whose_ authority?” Castiel asked worriedly.

“Who do you think?” Gabriel waved his phone. “I went right to the source.”

“You – you asked _Dean_?” Castiel’s voice cracked. “What did you –?”

“Relax, baby bro: I was subtle about it,” Gabriel sighed. “I worked it into the conversation. As far as Dean knows, we were commiserating about crap daytime television with absurdly hot actors.” He paused. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Castiel chewed his lip, examining the costume – or what he could make out of it from within the plastic bag, anyway. Despite the name, it didn’t look completely embarrassing. _And it’s something that Dean likes... if Gabriel’s telling the truth, anyway..._

“Well?” Gabriel prompted. “What’s the verdict?”

Castiel looked up. “Um... sure?” he said cautiously.

Anna smiled. “Excellent. Let’s go pay for it and get back home; we still have to clean the house up for the party – “

“Not so fast,” Gabriel said, grabbing Castiel by the arm and steering him down the aisle. “If you really want to go as Doctor Sexy, baby bro, there’s one thing you absolutely _need_ to complete the costume...”

* * *

The cowboy boots were incredibly uncomfortable; they were tight around his heels and pinched his toes to the point where he could barely walk. However, Castiel had to grudgingly admit that even if he ended up tripping over his own feet because of them, the shoes added a certain... _flair_ to his costume.

Actually, all things considered, the Doctor Sexy costume had come together quite well. The foray into the costume store had yielded not only the cowboy boots and a white medical coat, but also an ID badge and a stethoscope, the former of which was pinned to his collar and the latter of which was draped over his neck. After digging through his closet, Castiel found a pair of black jeans, and he’d borrowed one of Gabriel’s T-shirts; judging by the overwhelming scent reeking from the black cotton, he had good reason to suspect that his brother had sprayed it with cologne to within an inch of its life before handing the garment over. Not to mention that it was a little large, and the V-shaped neck plunged a little too low for his liking.

Even so, Castiel didn’t think he looked completely terrible.

_But what will Dean think?_

“Hold still,” Anna commanded from behind him, her fingers working through his hair. “I can’t get the gel to stay in one place if you keep shifting your feet.”

Castiel obeyed, feeling his constrained feet beginning to ache as his sister carefully styled his hair. He’d vehemently refused to buy a wig (much to Gabriel’s disappointment), so that meant giving into Anna’s request to do _something_ with his hair. As far as Castiel could tell from his reflection in the bathroom mirror, it was just looking like bedhead, but then again, he didn’t know anything about current hairstyle trends.

“There.” Satisfied, Anna stepped to his side, smiling proudly; she was dressed as a Greek goddess, in a flowing white chiton and gold jewelry with her curled hair cascading around her bared shoulders. “How do you like it?”

“It’s very nice,” Castiel said. “Thank you.”

“I take back what I said about the wig.” Gabriel appeared at the doorway, dressed in his tuxedo with his hair slicked back. “Dean won’t be able to resist you.”

“Is everything ready?” Wiping her hands on a nearby towel, Anna grabbed a stray tube of lipstick and carefully applied it to her lips.

Gabriel shrugged nonchalantly. “As far as I can tell. You want to go inspect it yourself, Your Highness?”

“In a moment.” Dropping the lipstick, Anna snatched up her cell phone from the counter, pulling up her to-do list. “Did you get the speakers working?”

“Yep. Are we still using your playlist?”

“We’re not using _yours_ , if that’s what you’re asking,” his sister said a trifle tartly. “What about the refreshments? Are those set out?”

“Snacks in the bowls, beer and soda in the cooler. And before you ask,” Gabriel continued, rolling his eyes, “I didn’t take any of the candy corn.”

“Good boy.” Anna checked off another item, then frowned. “I know I’m forgetting something; what am I forgetting?” she mused aloud.

“Well, you might want to remember it fast. Party starts in –” Gabriel made a show of checking his watch “ – _now_.”

Gasping, Anna ran from the bathroom; Castiel could hear the rapid patter of her sandals hitting the hardwood as she rushed down the stairs. A half a second later, the first strains of an ominous-sounding organ piece floated up from the floor below.

Gabriel chuckled, leaning up against the door frame. “So, baby bro... nervous?”

Castiel swallowed. “Kind of,” he lied. _“Nervous” is putting it mildly._

“Listen, flirting is easy. Bad flirting is even easier. I should know; I’ve perfected it.” His older brother leaned in conspiratorially. “Want to know my process?”

“No, not really.”

“It’s simple,” Gabriel continued, ignoring him. “Just one little acronym, patent pending.” Picking up Anna’s lipstick, he scrawled five blocky letters on the bathroom mirror:

_**U** _

_**S** _

_**U** _

_**C** _

_**K** _

Castiel squinted. “‘You suck’?” he read out loud. “Is this a joke?”

“Nope. Five letters that condense all of my knowledge into teensy-weensy bits just for you.” Brandishing the lipstick, Gabriel pointed at the “U”. “Step one: ‘understand your target.’”

Castiel cringed. “You make it sound like a military operation.”

“All’s fair in love and war, baby bro. My point is, you have to gather intel on your crush _before_ you burst in, guns a-blazing. Call me crazy, but I think you’ve got that one covered.” Gabriel pointed at the “S” next. “Next up: ‘show interest.’ Talk to them. Buy them a drink. Write them a love song and serenade them outside their window. Whatever floats your boat.

“You’re getting serious, here, so now’s the time to remember that –” the tip of the lipstick rested by the “U” “– it ain’t about you. It’s about _them._ Nothing, and I mean _nothing_ , turns a girl or guy off faster than someone who won’t shut up about themselves, which is why you should –” now the lipstick was at the “C” “– compliment them. Chat them up. Crack a joke. Make them feel special, y’know?”

Castiel nodded, slightly surprised that Gabriel’s “tips” sounded viable for once. “And... what does ‘K’ stand for?”

Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows. “The _coup de grace_.” Pursing his lips exaggeratedly, he made a loud kissing sound. “The perfect end to a romantic evening.”

Castiel blanched. “Doesn’t that seem a little... presumptuous?” he ventured. _Especially if I don’t know if Dean likes me or not?_

“There’s nothing wrong with a little kiss!” Gabriel protested. “For Christ’s sake, you’re acting like I told you to tie Dean up and spank him six ways to Sunday!”

“I just – it doesn’t – I don’t want to,” Castiel said lamely. _Not like this. Not at a party where everyone can see us._

Gabriel sighed dramatically, picking up the towel by the sink and wiping off the mirror, leaving red streaks across the glass. “You can take my advice or leave it, baby bro. But you should probably take it if you want to get anywhere with Dean.”

Castiel frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gabriel opened his mouth to respond, but then the doorbell rang, cutting him off.

Castiel’s heart lept in his chest. _Could that – could that be Dean already?_

Brushing past Gabriel, he bolted down the hallway – or tried to; in the cowboy boots, his gait translated into a very fast hobble – and ran down the wide wooden staircase, two steps at a time. He didn’t stop to admire the orange-and-black garlands wound around the railings, or to grab a caramel apple from the snack table, or even to listen a little closer to the eerie violin melody pouring from the speakers, but rather dashed out of the living room and into the atrium.

“You made it after all!” Anna was exclaiming as she closed the front door behind their first guest. “First one here, too!”

“Are you kidding?” Hannah exclaimed. “I wouldn’t want to miss _any_ of your parties.” Her gaze wandered, taking in the decorated hall; her eyes lit up when she saw Castiel standing under the archway. “Wow. Great costume.”

“Yours too,” Castiel replied, not knowing what else to say.

Hannah beamed. “Thank you. Mine’s a little more... Christmas-y, though.” She gestured to the halo attached to her headband; she was dressed as an angel, in a modest white dress with feathered wings on her back. “You look like you just stepped out of the television... Doctor.”

Castiel laughed, though it came out a little strangled and uncomfortable. _If I can’t even talk with one of my friends in this costume, how am I supposed to talk to_ Dean _?_

“Did you see anyone else’s car along the way?” Anna asked briskly, breaking the silence.

Hannah frowned. “Maybe. I’m pretty sure I saw Kevin’s VW, and maybe Dorothy’s –” The rest of her sentence was drowned out by the roar of a motorcycle screeching into the driveway, followed by the choking putter of a an ancient car engine. “That’s probably them,” she finished.

“Then the others can’t be far behind.” Anna marched past Castiel to the foot of the stairs, raising her voice. “Oh, Gabriel! _Someone_ has to help me greet our guests!”

“I was kidding about the party starting!” Gabriel yelled back. “You know that, right?”

“Well, Hannah’s here!” Castiel noticed that Anna was starting to slip back into her “mom voice,” and he prayed that Gabriel could recognize it fast enough to save himself from certain doom.

“Well, Miss Prissy Pants is _always_ fifteen minutes early! No one else is going to show up fifteen minutes early!”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

* * *

It had been forty-five minutes – thirty since the party had “officially” started – and there was no sign of Dean Winchester.

A can of Diet Coke clutched in his hand, Castiel sat on the edge of the couch’s leather seat and scanned the living room for what he was reasonably sure was the thousandth time, looking for a new face. He wasn’t even sure why he was drinking Diet Coke – he didn’t even like soda, let alone any variety of Coca-Cola – but it was a better and more legal alternative to the cheap six-packs Gabriel had broken out of the fridge and passed around.

His siblings had told the truth; assuming that Sam and Dean would be the last to show up, there actually weren’t that many people in attendance: only friends or very close acquaintances. There was Hannah, of course, and Jo, who was wearing the cowboy look ( _or cow_ girl _look_ , he amended) much better than he, in a Stetson hat, wooly jacket, and jeans tucked into boots with spurs gleaming at the heels. Gadreel and Tessa were also in the group clustered around Anna, the former in a black doublet and hose with a fake skull tucked under his arm and the latter in a slinky wine-red gown with plastic fangs gleaming from underneath her lips.

Gabriel’s crowd, on the other hand, were a good deal more rowdy than Anna’s friends. From what Castiel could tell from his vantage point in the corner, Bela, Ruby, and Abaddon – a pirate captain, Catwoman, and either Carmen Sandiego or Miss Scarlet (Castiel couldn’t really tell the difference), respectively – were arranging red Solo cups on the dining room table with gleaming eyes and calculating smirks on their faces. Seemingly oblivious to the imminent competition, Gabriel leaned against the kitchen counter with a beer in his hand as he chatted up Pamela, lush and sultry in her belly dancer costume.

At the coffee table in front of the television, Charlie, in a Princess Zelda costume that looked much too detailed to be store-bought, was busy dealing white cards to Dorothy (Amelia Earhart), Garth (a nerd, appropriately enough), Benny (a lumberjack), Aaron (a rabbi), and Chuck and Becky (salt and pepper shakers) while Kevin (Sherlock Holmes) gingerly shuffled the deck of black cards. Ash and Samandiriel, the only two people not in costume – though Ash dressed like a stereotype of an eighties rocker as it was and Samandiriel had come directly from his job at the local fast food joint and was still in his uniform – returned with plates of brownies and orange-frosted cupcakes, and were immediately dealt into the game.

But no matter what they were doing, everyone looked like they were... having _fun._ Maybe it was just this particular party – Castiel couldn’t be certain, seeing as this was the first high school party he’d ever attended – but it was much more relaxed and laid-back than he’d pictured. And besides the alcohol, there were no other illegal drugs in sight.

 _And Dean,_ he added without really thinking about it. _I still don’t see Dean._

Was Dean even coming? Had he changed his mind at the last minute? Worse still, did Dean lie to his face, knowing full well he wasn’t showing up at all?

Castiel swallowed. He hoped that none of those options was the case, but...

“What’s got you down, Clarence?” Meg settled herself on the couch next to him, an unopened beer bottle in one hand and a lacy parasol in the other.

Castiel forced a smile; for once, it wasn’t his friend’s casual use of his middle name that bothered him, but her nosiness. “Nothing,” he said hastily. “That’s a – ah, very nice costume, by the way.” Tilting his head to one side, he scrutinized her outfit: a tight, full-skirted dress replete with an enormous bustle in the back, a low-cut bodice in the front, and plenty of ruffles all around, accessorized with a wide-brimmed hat, long white gloves, and imitation diamond jewelry. “Old West madam?” he guessed.

Meg shrugged. “Mae West. Close enough.” Propping up her parasol on the cushion beside her, she pried off the beer cap and took a swig. “So, Clarence, what gives? I’d have thought you’d be out mingling with me, if not the rest of your geek friends.”

“I’m looking for an opportunity,” Castiel said.

“Still waiting on someone, then?” Hitching up her skirt, Meg shifted her seat and crossed one leg over the other. “Let me guess: his name begins with ‘Dean’ and ends with ‘Winchester’.”

Castiel groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Did Gabriel tell you?” he asked weakly.

“I’ve got eyes, Clarence. Not only have I noticed that Dean-o is a hot piece of ass, but you’ve been staring at said ass since freshman year.”

“‘Ass’? From you, darling, that’s disappointingly tame.” Peeling his white half-mask off his face, Crowley sat down at Castiel’s left.

“Wasn’t talking about you, dickweed,” Meg drawled. “I was talking about Dean Winchester. More specifically, _his_ fine ass.”

Crowley snorted. “Squirrel? What’s so special about him?” He peered over at Meg. “And what the hell are you supposed to be: stripper Little Bo Peep?”

Meg raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know who Mae West is? And you call yourself a film buff.”

“I know my movies, darling – why else do you think I’m dressed up as the bloody Phantom of the Opera?” Crowley pointed to his fine black suit and velvet cape.

“It was a book first of all,” Castiel pointed out tentatively.

“Well, the old films are better than anything Andrew Lloyd Webber’s dreamed up,” Crowley dismissed, leaning back. “So what’s this about my best friend Dean’s ass?”

“Nothing,” Castiel said quickly. “Are you, uh, not joining the others?” He gestured over to the dining room table and the game of beer pong between Bela, Ruby, and Abaddon, which had finally attracted Gabriel and Pamela’s attention.

“Facing the champion,” Crowley answered. “Ruby’s got strategy and Bela will probably cheat, but I’m thinking my beloved Student Council _Vice_ President will leave them in the dust.”

“And Abaddon’s chances against you?” Meg asked.

“No chance,” Crowley said without hesitation. “The ginger’s going down.”

Meg snickered. “Want to bet on that?”

“In a moment, darling.” Crowley turned his attention back to Castiel, and there was a knowing glint in his eyes that made Castiel _very_ nervous. “I’m far more interested in why you and Castiel were discussing Dean while Castiel here is in a Doctor Sexy getup.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Castiel asked, hoping he didn’t sound _too_ defensive.

“Nothing – except that it’s Squirrel’s guilty TV-watching pleasure. Oh, come _on_ ,” he laughed, seeing Castiel’s shocked face, “Dean and me, we’re besties. I know him better than he knows himself.”

“What, you braid each other’s hair, too?” Meg snorted.

“So, what’s your game, Castiel?” Crowley continued blithely, ignoring her. “Thinking to ensnare the elusive beast known as ‘Dean’ with your abundant feminine charms?”

“No. No, not – not at all.” The lie was useless; Castiel could already feel the blood creeping into his face.

Crowley smirked. “Has nobody told you that you’re terrible at lying?”

“I’m hardly ‘nobody,’” Meg put in.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “ _Right._ I wish you luck, by the way,” he added, addressing Castiel. “Dean Winchester... now _there’s_ a man worth getting.”

“So I’ve heard,” Castiel said weakly, wishing he could sink into the couch cushion.

“Well, I’ve got news for you: you’re going to have to do more than sit around and pine and bat those lashes.” Plucking Meg’s beer out of her hand, Crowley drunk deeply and then handed it back. “Squirrel likes men and women of action. Get my drift?”

Castiel frowned. “Meaning?”

“Meaning he likes getting physical,” Crowley said, enunciating every syllable. “Nudge, nudge. Wink, wink. Know what I mean _now_?”

Castiel swallowed, his face burning. “Ah,” he managed. “I – I see.”

“Don’t scare him off, douchebag,” Meg admonished. “I think Clarence has a chance.”

“Want to bet on _that?_ ” Crowley asked pointedly. “I guarantee you that betting on me winning beer pong against the world’s angriest ginger has _far_ better odds than Castiel rounding home plate with Squirrel.”

Meg shrugged. “I have a thing for underdogs – and I mean that in the best possible way,” she added, patting Castiel on the shoulder.

Castiel just nodded numbly. _God, how could I have been such an idiot? If all Dean’s after is a fling..._ As the song wafting from the speakers faded away, he felt a lump rise in his throat. _I thought he –_

_I thought he understood me._

In the silence, there came the abrupt sound of someone pounding on the front door, and everyone froze in place.

“This is the police!” a muffled voice yelled from outside. “Open up!”

Anna immediately shot a panicked glance at Gabriel, who frantically motioned for everyone to hide their drinks. Almost instantly, the beer bottles vanished under tables, inside cabinets, and behind furniture; Meg merely placed hers by her feet and smoothed out her skirt, hiding her drink under layers of silken ruffles.

Standing and crossing to the speakers, Anna unplugged her phone, her hands shaking. “Castiel,” she said, sounding nowhere near calm, “can you get the door, please?”

Rising from the couch, his knees shaking and his imprisoned feet already beginning to ache, Castiel slowly walked out of the living room and into the front hall, feeling everyone’s eyes on his back. As he approached the door, a part of him noted that there were no red and blue lights flashing through the sidelights, but Castiel couldn’t help being very aware of a growing pit in his stomach. _If Gabriel and everyone else who was drinking get busted..._

Shaking his foreboding thoughts away – or trying to – Castiel unlocked the front door and, exhaling deeply, opened it.

Dean was leaning up against the door frame, a cocky smirk on his face. “Got a call from the neighbors,” he said casually. “Something about a disturbance next door.” He removed his mirrored sunglasses and his eyes traced over Castiel. “Now I see what they meant.”

Castiel was at a complete loss for words. Not only was Dean standing not two feet in front of him, Dean was standing not two feet in front of him in a sleeveless shirt with a fake badge pinned to his chest, skin-tight leather pants with handcuffs dangling from the belt loops, jackboots, and a cap tilted rakishly over one eye.

Dean Winchester was wearing a sexy police officer costume.

“Anyway,” Dean continued, chuckling a little at his own joke, “is the party still on? Or did I scare everyone away?”

“Um,” was all that came out of Castiel’s mouth. _I – I was_ not _expecting this._

“You _bastard_ ,” Gabriel spat from behind him, striding towards the front door and shaking a finger at Dean. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Whoops.” Dean stepped inside, holding up his hands. “Anything left to drink?”

“I don’t know; we might have spilled a few beers in our haste to hide them from the _police_ ,” Gabriel said sarcastically, glaring at Dean.

“As long as you saved a few for me, we’re good.” Clapping Gabriel on the shoulder, Dean brushed by him and slipped into the living room.

In the awkward silence, Sam, standing out on the porch with Amelia and Lisa at his side and looking genuinely embarrassed, spoke up. “Sorry about the scare, Gabriel.”

“It was Dean’s idea,” Lisa added a tad apologetically.

Gabriel heaved a dramatic sigh. “I’m already beginning to regret this.”

Staring at the doorway that Dean had disappeared into, Castiel had to agree.

* * *

“We are _not_ playing Truth or Dare,” Anna said firmly. “Honestly, Gabriel, don’t you remember the fiasco that was last year’s prom after-party?”

“Sure I do. Lucifer was tripping balls on all the helium he’d inhaled, and I got a video of him and Lilith dumping a bucket of glitter all over Michael and his precious rental tux.” Gabriel snickered. “I will treasure those memories forever.”

“ _You_ didn’t have to clean the mysterious vomit out of the bathtub. No Truth or Dare.”

Castiel tried to make an effort to tune out the furiously whispered conversation between his siblings, but it was becoming more and more difficult with the level of noise in the living room. Not only was the music back on and blaring at full volume – some God-awful, eighties-sounding cover that Castiel was almost certain Gabriel had snuck onto Anna’s playlist – but each round of Cards Against Humanity kept getting louder and raunchier, and the game of beer pong had quickly turned into a tournament. As Crowley had predicted, Ruby and Bela were both out of the running and Crowley and Abaddon had been locked in a tie for the past fifteen minutes. Gabriel had been going strong for a while, but then Dean had a landslide victory over him.

 _Dean._ Castiel was trying not to think about Dean – _or that costume –_ but nothing was working. He’d drifted over to the snack table and attempted to drown his sorrows in apple cider and sugar cookies, watched the progress of the Cards Against Humanity game, even struck up a brief, slightly stilted conversation with Sam; he was doing everything he could to try and forget that Dean was at the party. And every time, just as he was actually starting to enjoy himself, he’d hear Dean laugh or lob lame comebacks at his beer pong opponents, and out of instinct, he’d look over just in time to see Dean smiling and preening in that ridiculous, tight, hot police costume –

Castiel swallowed hard. _He’s out of my league._ So _far out of my league. He’s a senior. He’s probably straight. He was just messing with me. He’s... he’s just_ Dean _._

Then why couldn’t he stop thinking about him?

“If we’re going to do Spin the Bottle, I vote we either work in extra rules or upgrade to Seven Minutes in Heaven.” Gabriel’s voice managed to cut through his thoughts. “Honestly, you haven’t lived until you’ve played Spin the Bottle with a French kiss penalty and stripping.”

“No, no, and _no_ ,” Anna said, sounding more exasperated by the minute. “I am determined to keep this party PG-13 for as long as possible, and so far tonight, you’ve _not_ been helping me reach that goal.”

“Well, let’s face it, sis: things are going to get steamy when Dean and baby bro get into a closet for seven minutes.” Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows. “Ain’t that right?”

 _That_ got Castiel’s attention. “No thanks,” he said flatly, turning around in his seat on the couch to face them. “I’d rather not.”

Gabriel blinked in surprise. “You’re joking, right?” he asked. “What happened to your mission? Operation Bang Dean?”

Castiel just folded his arms and looked away. “I – I don’t want to,” he said, his voice small. “I don’t want to play.”

Gabriel sighed, casting a baleful glance at Anna. “Okay, then. Spin the Bottle it is.”

“What?” Castiel said, panicked. “No, not that either –”

“Hey, Pam!” Gabriel yelled over him, vaulting over the back of the couch and into the center of the living room. “Is that beer empty?”

“What do you think?” From the entrance to the kitchen, where she’d been talking with Lisa, Pam tossed her beer bottle to Gabriel.

Gabriel caught it easily and winked at her. “You’re a doll, Pam.” He held it high over his head, as if it were a trophy. “Who’s up for Spin the Bottle?”

Several of the people playing Cards Against Humanity exchanged glances, shrugged, and then placed their cards back into the box; Garth smoothed his hair back with a shy grin, and Becky fluttered her eyelashes at Chuck. Abaddon and Crowley paused for a moment, staring narrow-eyed at each other, as if trying to cow the other into surrendering, and then slowly put their ping-pong balls down and joined the crowd gathering in the living room.

Anna sighed, but pasted a smile to her face and clapped her hands for order. “Alright, let’s form a circle!” she called. “Try to alternate male-female, please!”

As Castiel watched, chairs and ottomans were pushed back, leaving much of the carpet clear, and the partygoers arranged themselves into a sort of lopsided oval. Grabbing a large coffee table book about antique firearms, Gabriel placed it in the very center of the “circle” and balanced Pamela’s beer bottle on top of it.

“Aren’t you going to play, Cas?”

Castiel’s head jerked up at the sound of Dean’s voice. “Um – no, not really,” he muttered, keeping his head ducked. Even though he wasn’t looking directly at Dean in that costume, the vaguely teasing tone in Dean’s voice was still enough make his heart beat that much faster.

“First time?”

Castiel heard the smile in Dean’s voice, and his chest tightened. He settled for nodding – simpler than trying to speak.

“It’s not that bad,” Dean said, almost reassuringly. “Listen, everyone gets nervous the first time around. It happens.” His hand came down on Castiel’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. “And okay, straight-up Spin the Bottle is lame, but it’s still pretty damn fun.”

 _Dean’s hand is on my shoulder._ Castiel found himself having an even harder time formulating an answer. _Dean’s hand is on my shoulder._

“Okay,” he said.

Dean chuckled a little. “Knock ‘em dead, Cas.” His hand falling to his side – _Dean’s hand is_ not _on my shoulder_ – Dean strolled over to the circle and squeezed in between Jo and Bela, sitting cross-legged on the carpet.

“C’mon, Doctor,” Gabriel called from the far side of the circle. “We’ve got a lot of people needing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, if you know what I mean.”

Blushing, Castiel reluctantly walked to the circle. Hannah and Meg shifted to the side, clearing a space for him, and he knelt.

Gabriel held up the bottle, wiggling it tantalizingly. “Who wants to go first?”

After a moment, Sam half-heartedly raised his hand. Grinning, Gabriel tossed the bottle to him, and Sam put it down on the book and gave it a quick spin. The bottle wobbled a little, but it spun in a clean arc on the book’s cover until it finally slowed down. When it came to a stop, the bottleneck pointed at Amelia.

“Lucky spin,” she commented.

Sam smiled. “I’ll say.” Leaning over, he gave her a light, but sweet kiss.

Charlie grabbed the bottle next and spun it. When it landed on Dorothy, the brunette barely had time to react before her girlfriend pounced on her and showered her with kisses.

Wolf-whistling, Gabriel seized the bottle just as Dorothy punched him in the arm. Wincing, he spun the bottle with a flick of his wrist, and it came to Pamela. “Just who I was hoping for,” he said, turning to her and sweeping her up into his arms.

Laughing in between Gabriel’s sloppy kisses down her neck, Pamela finally pushed him away and took the bottle for herself. When it finished spinning, she looked up with a sly grin. “Ames, mind if I borrow your boy toy for a moment?”

Amelia waved her hand. “Be my guest.”

“Help,” Sam said weakly, but he succumbed to Pamela’s kiss without much complaining.

Crowley snatched the bottle, blowing on it quickly before spinning it. His eyes snapped up, following the line of the now-still bottleneck, and he smirked. “So, we meet again – on a very different playing field.”

“Bite me,” Abaddon snapped.

“If you’re into that sort of – _ow!_ ” Crowley’s retort ended in a high-pitched yelp as Abaddon tackled him. Suddenly worried that actual bodily injury could occur, Gabriel, joined by Benny and Gadreel, managed to drag Abaddon off Crowley with some difficulty.

“Bloody hell!” Crowley spat, massaging his neck; between his fingers, Castiel could glimpse a reddening splotch that could have either been the beginnings of a fierce hickey or actual blood. “That _hurt!_ ”

Abaddon had a smug smile on her face as she settled back into her spot. Cursing under his breath, Crowley shoved the bottle into Jo’s hands.

Jo spun the bottle, peering at it intensely as it teetered to a stop. “Hey, Anna,” she said with a slight smile.

Anna smiled back. “Hey, yourself.” She leaned forward and tapped her cheek, and Jo gave her a quick, chaste kiss there.

Dean grabbed the bottle and held it up, his eyes wandering around the circle and a smirk playing on his lips. “Here we go.” Placing it on the book, he spun it expertly.

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly nervous. The song had finally ended, and there was no other sound in the room except that of glass spinning on hard plastic –

Except not.

Cautiously, Castiel cracked open one eye, and then both eyes popped open in shock as all the breath rushed out of his lungs.

The bottleneck was pointing directly at him.

“Go get ‘em, baby bro!” Gabriel cheered.

Dean smiled, one corner of his mouth quirking up roguishly as he stood up and strolled across the circle. “I think I need CPR, Doc – ‘cause you take my breath away.”

Castiel swallowed, his heart picking up in a panicked tattoo to match his racing thoughts. _What do I do? Do I kiss Dean? Here? Now?_

“Cas? Hey, Cas?” Dean crouched down in front of him, green eyes concerned. “You okay?”

“Um –” Anxiety coiled in his stomach, and Castiel felt nausea rising in his throat. “I need some air,” he blurted, scrambling back and struggling to his feet, nearly falling on his rear in the process.

“Castiel, what’s wrong?” Anna started to rise, her face worried.

“Nothing, nothing,” Castiel babbled. “I’m fine, really. Just –” Leaving his sentence unfinished, he turned and bolted out of the living room, nearly tripping over his feet as he stumbled into the kitchen. Suddenly unable to stand wearing the shoes, Castiel wrenched off the cowboy boots, dropping them by the cooler; his socks came off too, but he didn’t retrieve them.

“Alright, baby bro, what’s going on?” Gabriel asked, his voice rising over the confused murmur coming from the next room.

Castiel didn’t answer, the lump in his throat cutting off all speech. Instead, he yanked open the sliding glass doors and ran outside onto the patio, the stone cold and hard against his bare feet. Dodging around the lawn chairs, he fled onto the lawn, lush green grass and crisp fall leaves yielding and cracking underfoot as he ran from the house as fast as he could.

Just before reaching the orderly row of hedges at the very edge of the lawn, Castiel stopped, jumping over them and throwing himself down on the yellowing grass, scattered twigs, and sharp pine needles that marked the beginnings of the woods. Hot tears pricked his eyes and made everything a dark blur, but when he lay back and stared up at the sky, the pinpricks of light above danced and sparkled in his vision.

His breath puffed in and out in pale clouds, and Castiel tried to steady his breathing as best he could. After what seemed like an eternity, his breathing slowed, and the tears dried at the corners of his eyes – but the profound embarrassment and shame remained.

 _I fucked up._ He bit down on his lip, trying not to cry. _I had my chance – no, I had a_ lot _of chances – and I fucked everything up so badly..._

Castiel curled up on his side, turning away from the stars and squeezing his eyes shut again. _They’re all laughing at me in there; I know they are. Gabriel... Crowley..._ Dean... _everyone._ A sob escaped him and he buried his face in his hands, trying to stifle it.

Suddenly, his ears picked up the faint sound of leaves crunching and Castiel froze.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice: hoarse, deeper than usual, but still Dean. “Cas, are you out here?”

Castiel sucked in a shaking breath, unsure of whether to answer or not.

A sigh; Castiel could almost imagine Dean taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair in mild annoyance. “Cas, don’t make me call a manhunt on your ass.” He paused, then continued in a milder tone. “Just – just come out, okay? I don’t want you to freeze to death.”

Castiel kept chewing on his lip as he considered his options. He could be silent and stay out here on a chilly October night in a lightweight costume with no shoes – he could already feel his back and side growing numb where they pressed against the damp leaves – and wait for Gabriel and Anna to drag him back inside. Or...

“Dean.” Castiel said it so quietly, he wasn’t sure if he’d said it out loud or in his mind. “Dean,” he repeated, a little louder this time.

“Cas?” In the corner of his vision, Castiel glimpsed the bright white light of a flashlight beam. “Where are you?”

Castiel swallowed. _I hope I’m doing the right thing._ “Behind the hedge.”

The rapid rustling and crunching of leaves and the erratic bobbing of the flashlight beam heralded Dean’s coming as he approached the hedge. With a grunt, Dean vaulted over the hedge, then brought the flashlight up with a frown and pointed it around the trees. “I don’t see you anywhere.”

“Down here.” Castiel made an attempt to sit up, his hands sinking into the debris on the forest floor. The flashlight darted around, blinding him, and he brought his hands up to shield his eyes.

“Shit, sorry.” Dropping the flashlight, Dean dropped to his knees, then grabbed his shoulders and hauled him up to a sitting position. “You alright?”

“I’ll live.” Castiel tucked his knees up to his chest.

Dean was quiet for a moment, then he grinned a little. “Sir, do you know how fast you were going?” he asked, lowering his voice a few registers.

Castiel blinked in confusion. “What?”

Dean sighed and shook his head. “Trying to make a joke,” he explained in his normal voice. “Because of the costume.” He gestured to his fake police badge.

“Ah. Right.” Castiel continued to wish for a bottomless pit to throw himself down rather than suffer any more embarrassment this evening.

“But seriously,” Dean said, “you _booked_ it out of there. Are you on the cross-country team or something?”

Castiel shook his head. “I don’t play sports. Sam’s tried to get me to go running with him, though,” he added.

Dean snorted. “Sammy _always_ tries to get people to go running with him. He’s a fanatic when it comes to his fitness.”

Castiel laughed a little. “Well, he _is_ good at cross-country,” he offered.

“Yeah. Yeah, he is.” Dean’s face softened. “Anyway...” he said after a moment, drawing out the word, “it wasn’t me, was it?” His tone was teasing.

Castiel tensed again. “What?”

“Did you run because of me?” Dean asked, sitting back on the ground. In the near-darkness, Castiel couldn’t read the expression on his face.

“Um...” Castiel looked down at his hands, noticing now that his fingernails were digging into his palms. _What now? Do I make something up? Laugh it off? Tell the truth – and risk it?_

“I was nervous,” he finally said. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. “I – I don’t really go to parties or play games like – like _that_ and – and it was just kind of... _overwhelming._ ”

Dean shrugged. “Okay. I can get that.” A long pause. “Why’d you do it, then?”

Unclenching his fists, Castiel started picking at the sleeve of his once-white coat. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I really don’t know. I guess it was just –” He stopped. “I thought I could be brave. And I wasn’t.”

His words hung in the silence. From far behind him, Castiel could barely hear the sounds of music and laughter and the occasional shout coming from the house; out here, in isolation, all was relatively still.

“So...” Dean ventured, stretching out his legs, “you coming back in?”

Castiel shook his head, Gabriel’s patronizing smirk floating before his eyes and Crowley’s mocking quips ringing in his ears. “I – I thought I’d stay out here for a while. Look at the stars... in the summer, I come out here all the time and just –” He stopped, remembering one of Gabriel’s flirting tips: _It ain’t about you. It’s about_ them _. Nothing, and I mean_ nothing _, turns a girl or guy off faster than someone who won’t shut up about themselves_.

“Just what?” Dean prompted. Maybe it was Castiel’s imagination, but he almost sounded... _curious_.

“Stargaze,” Castiel finished shyly. “Not even with a telescope – I mean, I have one, but I like to just look at them with my eyes. When I was little, I had a tree house right about there –” he pointed upwards, to a gap in the tree line “– and I’d fall asleep up there, looking at the constellations and the planets.” He paused, and then he realized that he was almost smiling.

“What happened to the tree house?” Dean asked.

Castiel sighed. “The tree it was in got hit by lightning a few years ago. It had to be cut down...” His voice trailed off. “I’m sorry; I must be boring you.”

“What? No! I just… didn’t know you were into…” Dean’s face screwed up in thought.  ”You know, star stuff,” he finished lamely.

“It’s called astronomy,” Castiel corrected, unable to keep the smile off his face now.

“I was getting there!” Dean protested, but he was laughing.

“So… I _wasn’t_ boring you?” Castiel asked tentatively.

Dean glanced over. “Honestly? It’s kind of impossible to be bored around you, Cas.”

Despite the cold, Castiel felt a curious, comfortable warmth in his chest. “Really?”

“Well... you know,” Dean said vaguely, “you know a lot that I don’t, so… it’s cool listening to you.” He was quiet for a moment. Then: “But do _you_ want to know something?”

“What?” Castiel ignored his impulse to lean in closer.

“If you want to stargaze, I know a great place for that.” A smile was playing on Dean’s face again, that roguish one that made his eyes sparkle, that one that Castiel loved so much. “Want to take a drive?”

Chewing on his lip, Castiel looked back towards the house. As best as he could tell by looking through the tightly clustered hedges, no one else had come out to look for them. And even though his coat was damp and dirty and his feet bare, he was breathing freely and his mind was clear.

 _And_ he was with Dean.

 _Maybe,_ he thought, _just maybe – there’s still a chance for redemption._

“Sure.”

* * *

“Where are we?” Castiel peered out of the Impala’s passenger window, trying to discern a familiar landmark or a road sign, but all he saw were tall, straight pine trees.

“Not too far out of town.” Dean slowed the Impala, the engine fading into a low purr as the car came to a stop. “C’mon. I’ll show you.” With a twist of the keys, the engine finally died and the rock song playing on the radio was abruptly cut off.

“How far of a walk is it?” Castiel asked anxiously, peering at his feet. Thanks to the car’s heating, he was a good deal warmer than he had been before, but the thought of going back outside sent a chill racing over his skin.

Dean looked over, and he did a double-take. “Jesus, Cas, you don’t have a coat?”

“Not really.” Castiel decided not to mention his lack of shoes.

Sighing, Dean leaned back to reach into the Impala’s back seat and then sat upright, throwing some heavy garment into Castiel’s lap. “Put that on, okay?”

Unable to see whatever Dean had given him clearly, Castiel ran his fingers over the garment. He realized almost instantly that it was leather, worn smooth with age, and when he brought it up to his face to smell, he breathed in hamburger grease, motor oil, and sweat.

 _It’s Dean’s jacket._ A thrill ran through him, part excitement and part nervousness. Groping at the jacket in the near-darkness, he managed to figure out where the sleeves were and which side was which, and Castiel slid it on over his costume, relishing its warmth.

“Didn’t learn frostbite prevention in medical school?” Dean asked jokingly

“It’s – it’s just a costume,” Castiel muttered, coloring. “I’ve never gone to medical school.”

“You’re probably smart enough to, though.” Dean glanced back at him, and he smiled: not a smirk, but a genuine smile. “Love the costume, by the way. I’m a huge fan of _Doctor Sexy, M.D_.”

“Really?” Even though Castiel already knew that, hearing Dean’s confession made him feel as though he was learning it all over again.

“Yeah. Guilty pleasure, you know?” Popping open the driver’s side door, Dean got out of the Impala. “I like shows like that.”

“Sitcoms?” Opening his own door, Castiel followed him out, shuddering as his feet connected with cold dirt. Looking around, he still had no idea where they were.

“Just shows with good endings.” Dean closed the door behind him and locked it. “Call me a sap, but I like happy endings. It might not be realistic, but…” His voice trailed off.

Castiel paused halfway through shutting his door. “But?”

“Nothing.” Walking around to the other side of the Impala, Dean shut the passenger door all the way, then tucked his car keys in his breast pocket. “It’s just… better than life, sometimes.” The smile had faded and his face was strangely melancholy.

Castiel nodded. “I know what you mean,” he said, feeling as though he had to say something. “Maybe not with television, but… books. Definitely books. Poetry, too.”

 _Now_ Dean’s smile returned. “That stuff can get pretty depressing, though.”

Castiel shrugged. “Maybe. But there’s a lot of things in them that _aren’t_ sad.”

“Oh, really?” There was a daring note in Dean’s voice. “Name one poet that isn’t awful.”

Castiel thought; now that he wasn’t being driven by adrenaline and anxiety, he was very aware of the ground below his feet and the stones digging into his soles. “Ogden Nash,” he offered. “He wrote a lot of witty poems.”

“He was the ‘candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker’ guy, right?” Dean asked, leaning back against the Impala’s hood.

Castiel blinked in surprise. “You know about Nash?”

Dean snorted. “Honestly, it’s one of the only things I remember from Metadouche’s English class my junior year. I forget what the poem means, but it’s got a snappy sound to it.”

“It’s actually pretty dark,” Castiel said ruefully, drawing Dean’s jacket around himself even further to ward off the cold. “It’s about dating. The poet’s acknowledging that while giving someone candy and being sweet to them is a decent way to win their affection, he’s saying that getting them drunk is a quicker way to – well, you know,” he finished, flushing.

Dean considered it. “Okay, that’s fucked up,” he said. “You’ve ruined Ogden Nash for me. Try another poet.”

Despite himself, Castiel laughed. “Well, let’s see... I’ve got a lot of favorite poets,” he confessed. “There’s Milton, Byron, Frost, Poe –”

“Poe was one morbid bastard,” Dean muttered. “But I guess he’s perfect for Halloween.”

“His works aren’t all scary. They’re...” Castiel searched for the right word. “They’re melancholy, mostly. Poe had a lot of sorrow, and his works reflect that.”

Dean smiled a little. “You’re cute when you get academic like that.”

Castiel’s heart stopped. _Did – did I hear that right?_

“So, tell me, Cas,” Dean said, continuing as everything was perfectly normal, “know any poems about stars?”

“Um...” Castiel glanced about their surroundings. The Impala was at the edge of a small dirt clearing, carpeted with dead leaves and encircled by looming pine and oak trees. “Speaking of which... is this the place that’s good for stargazing?”

“Damn straight.” Shifting his seat on the Impala’s hood, Dean patted the space next to him. “C’mon and sit.”

Mincing over the ground, Castiel gingerly slid onto the hood. “I won’t dent your car or anything, right?” he questioned.

Dean laughed. “Nah. Sam used to use her as a freakin’ recliner; I think you’re good.”

Reassured, Castiel smiled a little at the thought of Sam sprawling out on the hood of Dean’s beloved car. “And the stars?”

Taking off his cap, Dean leaned back, lying down with his hands folded behind his head. “Lie down and look up.”

Planting his hands on the warm metal of the hood, Castiel carefully lowered himself backwards until his head was propped up just under the windshield. His gaze lifted, going from the forest floor to the tops of the trees to the sky, and his breath caught in his throat.

The sky was almost purely black, clouded here and there with soft grey and dark lavender. The moon, perfectly round and gleaming a brilliant silver, hung overhead, surrounded by thousands of tiny pinpricks of light, more stars than the eye could ever take in. In the complete still of the night, with no breeze to chill and no sounds to hear, the tableau above was made even more stunning and unreal, like a painting instead of reality.

“Dean,” Castiel breathed, “it’s – it’s beautiful.”

“The view’s always this good.” Dean’s voice was quiet, almost reverent. “As far as I know, no one else comes here. Just me and Sam...” His voice trailed off. “And you, I guess.”

 _That he would share this with me, something so personal…_ Castiel swallowed. _This place means a lot to him._

I _mean a lot to him._ The thought surprised him. _I... does he...?_

“Dean,” Castiel said, turning his head. _I need to tell him. Somehow, I need to tell him._

Dean looked over. “Yeah?”

“You asked about poems about the stars.” Once again, Gabriel’s words ran through his mind: _Show interest. Talk to them. Buy them a drink. Write them a love song and serenade them outside their window._ “Well, I know one.”

“Alright.” Dean tucked his hat all the way underneath his head. “Let’s hear it.”

Taking a deep breath and praying that he remembered it, Castiel began:

_“Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck,  
And yet methinks I have astronomy…”_

Ruefully, Castiel thought of all the opinions he’d been bombarded with since talk of the Halloween party began in earnest – Anna’s insistence that he should attend, Gabriel choosing his costume and giving him advice on flirting, Crowley telling him he’d never stand a chance… so many people steering him in so many different directions, and all so that he and Dean would meet at the party and Dean would fall for him.

_But no one – not even me – considered that maybe… Dean was already in love._

Dean’s eyebrows rose. “Short poem.”

Realizing that he’d gotten so wrapped up in his thoughts that he’d stopped reciting the sonnet, Castiel flushed a little – but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been earlier. “There – there’s more.” Clearing his throat, he continued:

_“But not to tell of good or evil luck,_  
_Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons’ quality;_  
_Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,_  
_Pointing to each his thunder, rain, and wind,_  
_Or say with princes if it shall go well_  
_By oft predict that I in heaven find –”_

He paused, his eyes focusing on Dean. There was a smile on Dean’s face – not his customary cocky smirk, but something dreamy, almost tender.

“What’s the next line?” Dean asked softly.

“‘ _But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive –_ ’” Castiel looked into Dean’s eyes, and he saw the reflections of stars in them, and his voice and memory faltered.

“You… you’re the stars,” he whispered, gazing at the universe: light against a green horizon. _His own galaxy... and mine, too._

Dean blinked, confused, but then understanding slowly dawned. “Stars, huh?” he said, one corner of his mouth pulling up. “Want to see more?”

Castiel frowned. “What – what do you mean –?”

In an instant, Dean was suddenly _that_ close and his mouth was pressed against his, _kissing him_ , with one hand cradling his cheek and his stubble grazing his chin and his breath warming his lips as Castiel’s world tilted.

 _Dean is kissing me._ It ran through his head like a litany. _Dean is kissing me. He is kissing me, and this is – better than I could have ever imagined._

And – though Castiel was well-aware that the phrase was a definite cliché – when his eyes closed in blissful abandon, he did indeed see stars.

After a moment, he felt Dean’s mouth leave his. Trying to keep his disappointment down, Castiel opened his eyes to see the other’s face lit up in a mix of wonder and realization.

“Your lips are really soft,” Dean said.

There was something in the awed way he said it that made Castiel laugh – well, less of a laugh and more of a giggle. “I can’t believe I thought you were good at flirting.”

“Hey!” Dean assumed a mock-offended look. “I _am_ good at flirting. You just haven’t heard any of my police officer pick-up lines yet.”

“I don’t think I want to,” Castiel said.

“C’ _mon_ ,” Dean wheedled. “The only reason I picked out this costume is so I could use bad pick-up lines! Well,” he amended, “ _that_ and the pants make my ass look _great_.”

Castiel was suddenly glad for the relative darkness, as he was certain his face was bright red. “Um, yeah,” he stammered. “They – they do. The pants are… very flattering.”

Dean grinned. “Yeah, Gabriel said so, too.”

It took a moment for Castiel to process Dean’s comment. Then: “Gabriel... told you about this?” he asked weakly.

“Gabe did not tell me shit,” Dean said flatly. “He texted me after school today and asked if I was really coming to the party and if I still watched _Doctor Sexy, M.D._ And then he suggested that I should get this costume because, and I quote, ‘baby bro might not wear it, but he’ll appreciate it.’”

Castiel groaned, his head dropping onto the Impala’s hood. _Gabriel_ was _texting Dean at the costume store..._ “I am going to _kill_ him.”

“Normally, I’d offer to help, but, hey –” Dean tapped Castiel’s fake I.D. badge “– I’m not complaining.” The smirk grew even wider. “I _really_ like Doctor Sexy.”

“How much?” Castiel asked tentatively.

Dean thought. “A lot,” he finally said. “But… he ain’t you, Cas.” His eyes sparkled with sudden mirth. “You know, I should give you a parking ticket ‘cause you’ve got ‘fine’ written all over you.”

Castiel blushed, but he smiled. “Is – is that the best you can do?”

“Maybe,” Dean said cryptically.

Castiel looked at him, skeptical.

“Okay, yeah. It is.”

Now Castiel just laughed – or, at least he did until Dean’s mouth met his again. Squirming onto his side, Castiel closed his eyes again and leaned into the kiss; Dean’s body heat more than made up for the now-cool hood of the Impala.

“So,” Dean murmured. “Do you want to stay out here or head back?”

Castiel hesitated. “I – I could keep doing what we’re doing,” he said haltingly. “If you want to, anyway,” he qualified.

Dean smiled. “What do _you_ think?”

Castiel flushed, more out of pleasure than embarrassment. “Um... yes?”

“ _Hell_ yes.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows. “Besides, I need to place you under arrest.” He paused. “For... being too damn cute.”

Castiel laughed, even harder than the first time. “Okay, _that_ was pretty bad.”

“You have the right to remain silent about my flirting skills – exercise it.” Curling his arm around him and pulling him a little closer, Dean kissed him again, effectively silencing him.

Feeling unusually bold, Castiel carefully looped his arm around Dean and drew himself against him: chest to chest, knees touching. And as he returned Dean’s kiss, he felt the other’s lips curve into a smile against his as stars continued to shine in Dean’s eyes.

* * *

“So... will I see you tomorrow?”

Dean chuckled. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, Cas. No school.”

“I know, but...” Castiel chewed on his lip. “But maybe we could... set something up?”

Dean took his eyes off the barely paved road ahead to glance over at him; his smile from earlier hadn’t left his face. “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel confessed. _Just..._ something. _Anything to spend time with you._

“I’m driving Sam and Ames to the movies tomorrow night,” Dean offered.  ”They’re going to the _Hell Hazers_ sequel. Cheap cinema at its finest.”  He playfully nudged Castiel with his elbow. “Want to make it a double date?”

Castiel swallowed. The thought of Sam, one of his closest friends – _okay, one of my_ only _friends_ – witnessing him dating his brother made Castiel’s stomach twist into knots, to say nothing of the fact that it would be a horror movie – a terribly cheesy and laughable horror movie, perhaps, but _still_.

But here, sitting in the Impala’s passenger seat in the dark, with Dean less than two feet away and the radio playing on low volume, Castiel felt strangely comfortable, more so than he usually felt around people. _But Dean... Dean’s not most people._

_I like him. And somehow, he likes me. A lot._

“Sure,” he said finally. “If – if you guys are paying for tickets, I can buy popcorn.”

Dean grinned. “Deal.” Deftly turning the wheel with one hand, he swung the Impala up a long, winding driveway – his own driveway, Castiel realized with a start.

As they climbed the hill and drew closer to his house, Castiel could make out a few people leaving through the front door and heading for their own cars; a cherry-red sports car and a sleek, compact black sedan were still parked in the driveway. Gabriel and Anna were on the porch, illuminated by the lamplight as the departing guests were thrown into shadow, but as the Impala slowed by the bare hydrangea bushes, both siblings focused on the car.

Castiel tensed. “Crap.”

Dean frowned slightly. “What?” He followed the other’s gaze to Gabriel and Anna, both of whom were walking purposefully towards the Impala. “Oh. Right.”

“What do I do?” Castiel whispered, panicked.

“If Gabe gives you hell, give it right back.” Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “And don’t worry, Cas. I’m still here.”

The thought comforted him, and Castiel nodded. Taking a deep breath, he unbuckled his seat belt, opened the car door, and stepped out to face his siblings, once again wincing as his bare feet touched down on the cold pavement.

“Oh, thank God,” Anna sighed, clearly relieved. “When you didn’t come back in –”

“There you are!” Gabriel exclaimed, interrupting her with a knowing smirk on his face. “Party’s just about over. Where the hell have you guys been?”

“Around.” Dean got out as well, leaning casually against the Impala.

“I’ll bet,” Gabriel commented, turning to Castiel. “So, baby bro: what happened?”

Castiel opened his mouth, and then closed it again when he couldn’t think of anything to say. _How can I even sum up how much everything has changed in this one night?_

“Doctor-patient confidentiality,” he finally said.

Gabriel’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came out, and Anna smiled slightly at her brother’s consternation. Half-doubled over and gripping the roof of the Impala, Dean looked as though he was trying very hard to _not_ burst into laughter.

A surge of confidence shot through Castiel. “Dean,” he said, looking over at him, “what time are you coming on Saturday?”

Dean straightened up, a smile still playing on his face. “Six-thirty-ish?”

“Sounds great.” Skirting around the Impala, Castiel came to a stop in front of Dean. “I – I guess I’ll see you then.”

“Don’t worry, Cas,” Dean reassured. “I always make my doctor’s appointments.” Dean tilted his chin up to look directly in his eyes. “Especially ones with Doctor Sexy.”

Castiel smiled shyly. “Well, I wouldn’t, uh, dream of disobeying an officer of the law.”

Dean chuckled. “See? You’re getting the hang of it.” Leaning down, he kissed him.

And Castiel, despite all of the attention focused on them – Gabriel wolf-whistling, a completely dumfounded Crowley reluctantly handing some wadded-up bills to Meg, Anna smiling proudly, Sam yelling “About time, you two!” – kissed him back underneath the starry sky.


End file.
